


no wedding day smiles no walk down the aisle

by Snacky



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, Gen, Prompt Fill, R plus L equals J, sibling relationships, valar_morekinks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7458568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snacky/pseuds/Snacky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon and Sansa are cousins, not siblings, so it's not a problem if they wed. Except for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no wedding day smiles no walk down the aisle

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt on valar_morekinks:
> 
>  
> 
> _A lot of Jon/Sansa (Jon/Arya, Jon/Robb...) stories have them finding out R+L=J and figuring that it's all A-OK because they're cousins._
> 
>  
> 
> _I want a fic where someone suggests a Jon/Sansa pairing... and their reaction is something like HELL NO. Because, despite their differences, they were raised as siblings, as Ned Stark's kids, and Jon being Targaryen won't magically take that away._

They've settled in a good life at Winterfell since the war ended. Bran is Lord of Winterfell, but in truth, the siblings rule together. Sansa understands the politics of the realm, even as changed as Westeros is, better than anyone, and Arya is a better Mistress of Whispers than even Varys ever was. Rickon, despite his youth and his distaste for being inside, and for meetings, understands the Wildlings better than even Jon does, after having spent so many years among them. Bran, with his exceptional gifts, is able discern nuances and make connections the others might miss, and is a good ruler, commanding respect from their sworn houses, and from the smallfolk, despite the wheeled chair he sits in.

Jon is no longer their sibling, although this is a secret known to only a few, and considered nonsense by the surviving Starks. He’s a Stark now, legitimized in Robb’s will, and uses the name. He’s castellan of Winterfell, in charge of protecting his house and leading the armies of the House Stark and the North, should the need arise.

It’s a good life, all of them together, slowly rebuilding Winterfell and doing the best they can to rule and rebuild the North.

Sansa knows, however, it’s a fragile balance – none of them are wed, and Lord Brandon is unlikely to ever produce an heir. Rickon should be betrothed, and he should be sent away to foster, to a southron house preferably so he can learn about people other than wildlings. But as much as Sansa understands the need for both these things, she's reluctant to part from any of her siblings again, no matter the wisdom of it. She should be wed too, but two husbands are enough for her, and she doubts that there's a man who would consent to wed and stay in Winterfell with her. Arya, of course, just laughs at the notion of becoming betrothed, to anyone at all.

Jon has nothing to say about weddings or betrothals, at least until the day a raven comes from King's Landing for him. He enters Sansa's solar, the parchment clutched in hand, and holds it out to her without a word, but she can tell by the look on his face it's not good news. 

She takes the parchment from him, noting the seal. It's from the Dragon Queen, Daenerys, the last Targaryen. She's not truly the last, of course – there's Jon, and the letter is about that very thing. His aunt is one of the few people in Westeros who knows the truth of Jon's birth. And this letter declares her intention to name him her heir, and her desire for him to be wed, to produce more heirs.

Sansa glances at Jon, whose face is fixed in a frown, then reads on. Queen Daenerys offers him a choice of brides: Margaery Tyrell, Asha Greyjoy, Arianne Martell, all currently residing in her court at the Red Keep – or Sansa Stark. The letter makes it clear: Prince Jon Targaryen must choose one, and take his rightful seat at Dragonstone, as the crown prince. Only if he weds Sansa will he be allowed to remain in Winterfell, _"for a royal presence in the North shall be helpful to me, and the people are devoted to you,"_ his aunt writes. Her words are pleasant and pretty, but it's easy to read between the lines: the only choice Jon has is of which bride. He _must_ wed, at the Queen's request.

When she finishes the letter, Sansa attempts to roll up the parchment again, but her hands are shaking. She will _not_ wed Jon, she won't, she can't – despite how much she wants to keep them all together, he's her brother, no matter what his last name is, no matter who his parents are.

Suddenly Jon's hand is on hers, fingers lacing through hers, and Sansa looks up at him. The pain on his face is surely mirrored on her own, she thinks, as Jon shakes his head at her. "We won't do it, Sansa, don't worry. I can't marry you." A tone of disgust creeps into his voice. "She may make my name Targaryen, but she can't force me to marry my sister."

"But…" As much she as doesn't want this match, that's how much Sansa wants to keep Jon in Winterfell with the rest of them. "If we don't, you must leave."

Jon sighs and gives her hand a tight squeeze. "Then I will leave. I cannot refuse the Queen."

"I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go either."

There's a long silence, before Jon pulls his hand from hers, and walks to the door. "I shall gather the others, and we can begin to make preparations." There's a light tone to his voice, but it's forced. "And perhaps you all can help me make a choice of wife."

"Jon…" Sansa feels like she should offer, make the sacrifice, but she can't. It's wrong to think of lying with Jon, to be wedded to her brother. The very thought repulses her.

His back is to her, and his voice is low and rough. "There's nothing for it, Sansa. I must do my duty. You know Father would want me to."

And then he's gone, leaving her alone, and Sansa remembers what happens every time a Stark leaves Winterfell, to journey south along the Kingsroad. _Nothing good._


End file.
